A Light in the Darkness
by baby-blue4
Summary: What if Christine was in love with the phantom? What if they were together the whole time? EC
1. The face in the mirror

Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom, or any of the characters in it.

Summary: This is my version of how the movie/ stage play should have ended. Erik/Christine.

A/N: This might be a little bit corny, but bear with me. Also, I'm looking for a beta, if anyone would like to help me out. Enjoy!

Chapter One 

Christine looked around in awe. She was sitting on a boat as the cloaked man in front of her rowed across the lake. Everything was shrouded in mist, but even that didn't detract from the beauty of the place. As they neared their destination she could see candles glowing in the distance. It dawned on her that must be home to the phantom of the opera.

Ever since learning that her angel was actually the infamous phantom, Christine had been a little apprehensive. This place did little to calm her fears, but she felt another emotion overpowering them. She wasn't sure how to describe it. She only knew that when she looked at the masked man in front of her a blush rose to her cheeks and a heat flowed through her body like she had never before known. And when he sang to her, with the voice of an angel despite outward appearances, she wanted nothing more than to be close to him and have him by her side always.

Eventually the phantom took Christine's hand and helped her out of the boat. She looked around curiously. She'd never seen anything like this place. It reminded her of something vaguely majestic, but completely original. She wondered how a man who never appeared to go outside managed to amass so many lavish things. She briefly considered asking him to return her to her dressing room. Maybe following him here was a mistake. The thought of going through a mirror was a little crazy anyway.

Then she heard the music. Music that was so beautiful she thought her heart would burst from hearing it. She glanced over and saw that it was the phantom who was playing and singing. Christine felt herself being carried away by the music. Subconsciously she let her eyes drift closed and started to sway in tempo.

_Nighttime, sharpens, heightens each sensation,_

_Darkness stirs, and wakes imagination_

_Silently the senses abandon their defenses_

_Slowly gently night unveils its splendor_

_Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender_

_Turn you face away from the garish light of day_

_Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light_

_And listen to the music of the night_

Somewhere in the back of her mind Christine felt a voice telling her that this was very wrong. She should get back in the boat and row until she was safely in her dressing room again. Thankfully that voice was easily quieted. The phantom drew her into his arms and she felt herself leaning into his touch. When his lips met hers she didn't feel any trace of her earlier apprehension, only a simple pleasure that sent a warm tingling sensation threw her and left her wanting more but at the same time feeling oddly satisfied. Somewhere in the very back of her mind she wondered if this was what all kisses felt like, or if it depended on the person who was doing the kissing. She suspected the latter. Soon he was trailing heated kisses down her neck and she became acutely aware that suddenly the room felt far too warm. She moaned in protest as he pulled away from her. Their eyes met and a feeling of desire shot through her. Perhaps without even knowing she was doing it, she shot a glance at the ornately decorated bed in the next room. There was a silent question in her eyes. He nodded quickly and picked her up without a word.

"Wait!" she said, still struggling to breath properly, "I don't know your name."

"Erik," he answered quietly, "It is Erik."

A/N: No flames please! Constructive criticism is welcome though. I haven't read the book, so this is based solely off the movie and a little bit of the stage play. I don't intend for this to be a one shot, so all reviews would be greatly appreciated.


	2. The man in the mask

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Summary: Same as in the first chapter.

A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers! Gerard Butler is hot!

Chapter Two 

When Christine first awoke she wasn't at first certain of where she was. It was far cry from the ballet dormitories. That became obvious immediately. The most confusing factor was that she woke up alone. Her recollection of last night's events made it seem to her that it should be otherwise. Wrapping herself in a sheet from the lavishly decorated canopy bed, she began to search for something she could wear. It appeared that most of what she had been wearing the night before was either ripped to shreds or nowhere to be found. Much to her surprise the wardrobe appeared to be completely filled with things only in her size. She thought with a grin that Erik appeared to have planning this visit for some time. This caused her to grin rather wickedly as she added mentally that it probably didn't go exactly as he planned, but she doubted he would complain.

Soon after she was dressed Erik's playing drew her out of the room. Her breath caught in her throat and she stopped for a time to listen. His skill at playing combined with the supreme quality of his voice would have made the song sound perfect even to the most objective of ears, and since Christine was partial already it nearly stopped her heart. She took the opportunity to observe him at his most relaxed. He really was very hansom, well muscled and strong, with piercing eyes that saw into your soul at a glance. The sudden urge to know what was behind his mask overtook her. She quietly crept up behind him, and he was so absorbed in his music that he took no notice of her. In one sharp movement she held the mask in her hand, and almost immediately she regretted it. The look of hurt in his eyes was unbearable. His pride was wounded and his heart was broken. He'd done everything in his power to make her see him as a man instead of a monster. Now everything he'd worked for was shattered. She'd never think of him as anything other than deformed now.

His anger was overpowering. In an instant she found herself on the floor, the victim of his blinding fury.

_You little prying Pandora!_

_You little Demon! Is this what you wanted to see?_

_Damn you! You little lying Delilah!_

_You little viper! Now you cannot ever be free!_

_Damn you! Curse you! _

But in the end he knelt beside her, lost in his own self hatred. Mad with the fear that she hated him now. But she could never hate him. It didn't matter what he looked like. He was her angel of music and whether or not he realized it, so much more.

"Oh Christine," he sighed at last.

She scooted over to where he was, but instead of handing him back his mask, she took hold of the hand that was covering his face, and brought it slowly away. She ran her fingers lightly over his deformed cheek and nose before smothering his entire face in feather light kisses until his lips found hers. After a moment he broke the kiss and helped her to her feet.

"Come," he said at last, although rather regretfully, "those two fools who run my theater will be missing you." She nodded, and climbed unresistingly into the boat. He led her back up through the labyrinth that was within the bowels of the opera house until she stood safely behind the mirror of her dressing room.

"Oh Erik," she said, but he put a finger to her lips. He kissed her chastely and was gone before she could say anything more. She was filled with an unbearable loneliness now that he was gone. Trying to focus her mind elsewhere she stepped through the mirror and set off to find Meg Giry, her best friend and fellow dancer. There was quite a commotion when she reappeared unharmed. Apparently they'd all been searching for her for some time. The Vicomte de Chagney had been particularly interested in her safe return. Until then Christine had forgotten about her childhood friend completely. She felt a little guilty in hind sight, especially if he had been worried, but only a little.

A/N: How was it? RR!


	3. The serenade in the moonlight

Disclaimer: I still own nothing, and I'm still not profiting from this.

Summary: This takes place on the rooftop after Carlotta has started croaking. Only this time it's between Christine and Erik. ERIK HAS NOT KILLED ANYONE!

A/N: Thanks to my beta hurlasquirrel2, I love you!

Chapter Three 

Christine ran as fast as her feet would carry her away from the commotion of the opera below. She needed to find Erik. She needed to talk to him and find out what had happened, and to warn him that everyone would be looking for him. Above all she just wanted to make sure he was safe, and maybe feeling his arms around her wouldn't be so bad either. She could have smacked Raoul when he pulled her aside by the arm.

"Where are you headed off to in such a hurry?" he asked in what would have been a playful tone if it hadn't been just downright annoying.

"Oh just out to get some fresh air," she said as lightly as she could. _Can't you take a hint? I'm already taken, _she thought frustratedly.

"Would you like me to accompany you? Who knows what strange things can be lurking in dark corners at this time of night, and it's especially unsafe for lovely young ladies, such as yourself." _Oh yes,_ _all those street criminals who hang about on the opera house roof. It's the perfect hide out, really. _She could have smacked him.

"I really think I should go alone," she answered as tactfully as she could, "I'm trying to calm my nerves before I have to go on again." Before he could protest she skittered past him and continued her trek to the top of the building.

She saw him standing there immediately. He was hard to miss. A dark, cloaked, solid figure who stood out sharply in contrast to the white powdery snow that coated everything that night. "Erik!" she cried as soon as she saw him, "Erik, you've got to stop this. I don't care if I play the silent role. I don't care if I'm only in the chorus as long as I live. Something could happen to you! What if you're caught and the managers are angry. They're already unhappy enough about paying you your salary as it is. I couldn't bear it if you were hurt and I was the cause."

"Sweet Christine," he said as he stroked her white cheek, "in some ways you are still every bit that little girl I first heard singing in the chapel. Your career is important to me. I want you to progress. You don't have to throw away your dreams just because you have me. You can have both. I'll always be here for you. And you're a hundred times more talented than that wretched Carlotta even when she wasn't past her prime." He cleared his throat nervously. "Now, let us talk of other things. I understand the Vicomte has made his intentions toward you known."

This caused Christine to blush. "I do not share in his affections. He still thinks of me as little Lottie, and I'm hardly a gawky little girl anymore. It's true we were friends and playmates as children, but there's nothing between us now." Erik put his arms around Christine and began to sing softly.

_Say you'll share with me one love one lifetime_

_Lead me, save me from my solitude_

_Say you'll want me with you now and always_

_Anywhere you go let me go too_

_Christine, that's all I ask of you_

When she turned to face him he dropped down to one knee, and tears sprang to her eyes. "I would be honored, Christine Daae, if you would become my wife."

She nearly knocked him over with the force with which she threw her arms around him. "Yes! Yes! Yes! And a thousand time more, yes!" she squealed, nothing visible in her eyes, except pure joy. But even that was nothing to compared to the way she looked when he produced a blue diamond, flower shaped ring from his pocket and slipped it onto her finger. The moment was broken when she said, "I must get back. They'll wonder where I am. Will you meet me later?" she asked hopefully. He couldn't help but chuckle at the look of youthful eagerness that dominated her normally calm features.

"You know where to find me," he said, and with a swoosh of his cape he was gone.

A/N: Meghan, the cape bit was just for you. Review! Do it now!


	4. Paper faces on parade

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything, and am still making no money.

Summary: The masquerade scene, redone with Christine and Erik going together.

A/N: I know I already posted this chapter, but I've made some changes, and I'm hoping to improve the plot from here. Constructive criticism welcome, flames will be used to toast marshmallows for smores.

Chapter Four 

Christine nervously fingered the chain around her neck holding the engagement ring. Oddly enough, it was Erik who insisted she wear it that way, if she wore it all. It would draw unnecessary attention, he said, and unwanted complications. What could she do but bend to his will? There was a good chance he was right. She checked herself over in the mirror for about the tenth time, making sure everything was perfect. Normally she wasn't too finicky about how she looked, but tonight she wanted to impress him, make him proud to be her escort.

She was relieved when he finally emerged into her dressing room by way of the mirror. She'd been starting to worry that he'd changed his mind. Not that she would blame him, really. For a man who'd spent most of his life avoiding people because of their cruel nature, attending a crowded party was a big step. She wished she could undo all that the world had done to him. Some people really were kind and good, Meg and Madame Giry were prime examples of it, and so was Raoul, although she doubted he would appreciate that example very much.

His costume was perfect, but she didn't know why she was surprised. _He wears evening apparel all through the day for crying out loud, I knew to expect something elegant for a costume. _The red fabric clung to his muscled form, and the skull inspired mask hid his deformity as well as his identity. He smiled when he saw her. He did it just often enough to be charming, but to remain disarming at the same time. He held out his arm to her in mock formality.

They didn't turn any heads when they entered the ballroom. In fact, compared to some, their costumes could have been considered plain. It was a blessing for those seeking anonymity. Christine couldn't help but grin as they whirled around the dance floor. Although he didn't show it often, there was a lighter side of Erik's personality. Apparently he excelled in dance, in addition to magic, singing, playing the piano, and just about everything else he did. She could see him smiling from behind his mask. He really was enjoying himself, despite the crowd.

It wasn't until Raoul made an appearance that Christine even considered the possibility that the evening could be ruined. He didn't spot her right away, but she knew she couldn't hide for long. If only she could make him understand, tell him that she did have feelings for him, but they paled in comparison to the feelings she had for Erik. She could never bring herself to say something like that. It would be cruel, not to mention unladylike. He would make someone a wonderful husband someday, that someone just couldn't be her. A tap on her shoulder startled her out of her preponderance.

"Raoul," she said, nodding as politely as she could in greeting.

"Do you mind if I cut in?" he smiled impishly at her.

She laid a reassuring hand on Erik's shoulder, "I'll only be a minute," she whispered, and then she was gone, and he was left standing alone on the dance floor. If he thought he could take the opportunity to brood about his loneliness, he was sorely mistaken. In coarse of time that Christine was gone, perhaps ten or fifteen minutes, he was asked to dance by at least seven different women.

When Christine returned her eyes were flashing, her cheeks were flushed, and her mouth was turned down in a frown. At first she refused to acknowledge that something was wrong , but after some provoking she relented and allowed Erik to lead her into a more private corner of the ball room. As soon as they were out of ear shot she broke down and cried in his arms, he kept asking what was wrong and she would only reply he is going to kill you, he is going to kill you. After she had calmed down a bit she was able to explain. She said that as Raoul swept her across the floor, he started making crude comments about Erik and how they were not a very flattering couple, this made Christine furious! She started to defend them when Raoul sharply cut her off and told her she was to cut off all communication with Erik and never see him again. If she defied him he would take care of it himself, she did not know exactly what this meant but she knew it could not be good, but instead of getting frightened as Raoul had planned she got even more furious and abruptly cut off the dance and swept away. Now Raoul was so unaware off what he had started or done, he brushed it off as if it were nothing and went off to enjoy the rest of the evening, thinking that Christine would come to her senses and meekly come crawling back to him, begging to be taken back after she had wronged him. Little did he know that at this moment " meek innocent Christine" was not so obedient anymore.

A/N: Megra! You're so amazing for helping me out with this chapter! Thanks to everyone who reviewed me, and hopefully this is a little better now than it was before.


	5. Wandering Child

Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or any of the characters.

Summary: Christine and Erik pay a visit to her father's grave and are met by a visitor.

A/N: Meghan and Brittany I love you both! And thanks to all my reviewers!

Christine pulled her black cloak tighter around her shoulders as she shivered from the bitter cold. Erik silently drove the carriage onward and she could see him sitting there, reins in hand, looking deep in thought. She wondered it he was thinking about her. If he was, she hoped it was something good. She couldn't bear the thought of causing him pain. He'd already been through so much. He deserved happiness more than anyone else she knew.

It was very early in the morning, perhaps five or six o'clock. The cemetery was deserted, except for the two of them. Christine walked solemnly along the path well known to her from her many visits. Erik cleared his throat nervously. He did not often venture outside the security of the opera house, and was always slightly ill at ease whenever he did so. He couldn't imagine Christine was taking him anywhere dangerous, especially when she had made the journey so frequently on her own, but he still felt out of place. This was beyond his domain. Inside the walls of the Opera Populaire, he ruled like a king, a king who knew every inch of his kingdom by heart, and who had the obedience of his subjects, even if it was obtained by fear. He felt so exposed out in the open air. He's seen more than his fair share of the cruelties of the world, and was reluctant to travel into a place that his been so unkind to him in his youth.

Christine felt crystalline tears slide silently down her cheeks as she set down the bouquet of roses she'd been carrying in front of the imposing tomb. The structure was very familiar to her, and yet she feared it. To her, it represented what waited ahead inevitably for everyone, even those she cared about, especially herself. Christine had been religiously raised, and it was said she was a very pious young woman, but she had always feared death, just as most mortals do. When she stood there and stared at death, seemingly head on, for the first time in her memory she felt no fear. She realized she'd been wrong about the source of her terror all these years. It had never been dying she feared at all. _I don't want to die alone._ She thought forcefully.

Today there was no danger of a lonely death. Erik was here with her. He would be always by her side if she asked it of him, and she suspected, even if she did not. She wondered momentarily if he feared a lonely death. The answer that came to mind surprised her. He never feared it because he had always accepted it as his fate. He was a monster, destined to live forever in the bowels of an opera house, with nothing but his music for company. She shook her head as she remembered his words as he talked about his masterpiece, his opera. _"Sometimes I work on it for weeks without stopping. Then I rest for years at a time. When it is finished I shall go to sleep and never wake up."_

She shivered again, although this time, not from the cold. She thought to ask him how felt about his masterpiece finally making its Paris debut. She knew the female lead had been written especially for her, but she knew too that the male lead was written for his voice specifically. They had never sung it together and it seemed that now they never would. She would pour her heart out to Pianji on stage, in front of hundreds of people, and she wished that just once, they could all see whom her heart truly belonged to. She wished that Erik could appear before them all and show them what he could do. There was no one as talented as he was, and as wonderful as his music was no matter what, it was even more stunning when he performed it himself.

He had such passion for his work, and she wondered if anyone else were to play Aminta if he would have the same display of open affection for the character. Part of her hoped not, for the sake of her own pride. She felt privileged to be the woman she wanted, she above all others. He'd watched over her since childhood, diligently keeping her out of harm's way. But now he was so much more than her protector. He was her lover, and her beloved, her fiancée after all. He was so much to her it was difficult to put it all into words, but in short he was hers. The world may have cast him out all those years ago, but regardless of the hideousness of his face, which after she got over the initial shock of seeing her angel's perfect features marred in such a way, she accepted him into her heart with out question. She couldn't recall ever feeling as happy and content as she did on the occasions, of which there were all too few, that they were together. She felt like herself, and yet she didn't. It was like when Erik had been her angel she'd still been Christine, but now that Erik was just her Erik instead, she was a new and improved Christine.

No one else appeared to have noticed, but she could see the change in herself. When she gazed at her reflection, her cheeks seemed rosier, her lips redder, her skin no longer held a deathly pallor, although she was still pale. Her hair seemed to shine and her body seemed to radiate with a boundless energy all its own. It was strange how being loved by an angel could affect someone. Christine ceased to notice the things that had before bothered, and perhaps even terrified her. She smiled at everyone and was always ready to make polite conversation. Her performances, even those at practice, were even more enthralling than the fateful night she sang at the gala. There were rumors that she was having a love affair with the Vicomte de Chagney, although anyone who knew her easily laughed them off. All one had to do was listen to her talk about the Vicomte, and it was obvious she thought of him as nothing more than an old friend, if that. Sometimes her eyes would grow glazed, and she would stare wistfully out into space, as though the person she was truly thinking of might be right near by, which in fact, more often than not, he was. Sometimes when no one else was looking, Madame Giry would smile knowingly at the girl whom she had raised since childhood, and silently say a prayer of thanks that she and Erik had found each other. They really were perfectly matched in most ways. They were both shy, despite the fact that they worked in the arts, and they had both, at one point or another, felt and rather hoped to be, forgotten by the world.

Erik waited silently for his future bride to finish her business here so they could be on their way. It wasn't that be minded accompanying her, in fact he preferred it that way. He could at least ensure her safety, while making certain no other man so much as looked at her in a manner that suggested impropriety. It was just that his porcelain mask quickly began to feel like ice against his skin, and couldn't risk removing it here. He saw his angel's eyes flicker on him for moment, just before she smiled, and he took it as an indication that she'd been thinking of him pleasantly. Until now he hadn't known thoughts of him could be pleasant.

Christine gave her bonnet one final adjustment before she turned to Erik, and he took her arm leading her out of the cemetery. Just as they reached the carriage a figure stepped into their path.

"Raoul!" Christine gasped, startled by his sudden appearance. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," he answered sounding slightly hurt, "especially after I sat guard by your dormitory all of last night so as to ensure your protection." Christine tried to keep the smile that threatened to tug at the corners of her mouth at bay. She hadn't been in her dormitory since early last night, but he needn't know that.

"Protect me?" She asked using her best acting skills to feign surprise. "What did you feel you needed to protect me from? I'm in no danger." _Although you might be if you continue to refuse my request that we remain apart. Very apart._ She added silently. "I wasn't even aware of your presence last night." That was a lie, but her hope was that once he saw that his effort to appear masculine and protective of her had come to nothing he would cease to try to impress her. He could never compare to Erik. Indeed she had noticed his presence when she tiptoed out of the dorm for her "nightly visit" with Erik. She'd nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of him. Although Erik was a far more imposing figure, and if she had been anyone else he might have frightened her to no end, she usually had some idea when he was lurking close by. She expected it, she was prepared. She had been totally shocked to find her childhood friend asleep at the entrance to her dorm. It was a sweet gesture she knew, but somehow she couldn't help seeing it come across as more pathetic than anything else.

Suddenly Raoul unsheathed his sword and lunged at Erik. Thankfully Erik was quick on his feet and managed to dodge the blow. He too pulled out his sword and so the duel began. Christine let out a scream that was likely to wake the dead, but it did no good. Raoul would not stop his attack, and she could hardly ask Erik to stop fighting without being killed. It was impossible to tell who was on the winning side. Erik seemed to have the upper hand, but he Raoul never gave him a chance to be on the offensive. Erik finally out maneuvered him, and stabbed him in the arm, leaving a long and bloody gash in his wake. Raoul cried out in pain, and almost succeeded in eliciting a feeling of sympathy from Christine. She didn't think she could do anything that might lead to the destruction of someone whom she had known since childhood. Someone her father had let into their home. Someone her father had trusted with her. She didn't think she could, but then he had Erik on the ground, and a sword was pointed at his throat. Christine looked in the eyes of her beloved and saw the fear in his eyes. Not the fear of dying, but the fear of leaving her behind. He had faced the world without her, but how could she face it without him. Even with his last breath he as looking out for her, just as he had always done.

Christine looked in the eyes of the man she once knew, a long time ago. She didn't know him now. This was not the Raoul who'd rescued her scarf in her childhood, this was another man. It had to be. She didn't see adoration when she looked at him. She saw lust, lust for her, and lust for blood. As frightening as Erik could be, especially when he was at his most intense, he was nothing like this. She knew in that moment that she had to make a choice, but in a fraction of a second later she knew that the choice had already been made for her. She couldn't stand and watch Erik die. She would take his place if she had to. Before Raoul could plunge the cold steel into the throat of the masked man Christine threw herself on him with every ounce of strength she had in her body. He went limp after he hit the ground. At first she was afraid he was dead. It wasn't until Erik pulled her off of him and pointed out that he was still breathing, albeit shallowly, that she could even move to get into the carriage.

She didn't give one thought to the opera house until it came into view hours later. They had dropped Raoul off at the hospital, and Christine had insisted they stay, just to make sure he was all right. Erik wanted to leave, and not that she could blame him, but she needed to make sure he was ok, for the sake of her own conscience. Once he regained consciousness she was out in a flurry of petticoats. It wasn't until then she realized that if she had killed him, she would have gone on. It would have been a choice she made, and she would have gone on making more choices. That was how she knew for certain that their lives were no longer intertwined, not like her and Erik's. If he had died that morning in the cemetery, she would have died with him.

She had too much on her mind to bother checking the cast list once she got back. She was probably in the chorus anyway. It wasn't until her friend, Meg Giry, informed her that she was to play the lead, Aminta, that she even knew what the opera was. It was Erik's opera, his masterpiece, his dream. Christine's face, red and tear streaked from the wear and tear of the day, finally shone with happiness. She should go and congratulate him on his triumph. He'd always been there to share in hers.

A/N: Thanks to my beta Hurlasquirrel2 for taking me to see the movie yet again. I owe you one!


	6. Dreams of Love

Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom or any of the characters mentioned in the following.

Summary: When the managers agree to perform the phantom's opera with Christine as the lead, everything seems to be going perfectly for her and Erik. But will it last?

A/N: Thanks to Meghan and Brittany for being so supportive and not making me feel like such a dork.

Chapter Five 

Rehearsals were in full swing for the new opera "Don Juan Triumphant," by a mysterious local composer. Christine Daae was exhausted from working so hard on it. She'd always wanted to have the lead in a major production, but she'd never realized how completely draining it could be. She had to learn all of her songs and blocking, plus there were costume fittings and her singing lessons. These days she hardly had a moment alone, except for when she was in bed for the night, and even those times seemed to be getting shorter and shorter.

She rarely saw Erik, and probably would not have seen him at all if it had not been for their singing lessons. The more of the opera they sang together the more she began to take notice of the faults in Pianji's voice. Erik could jump octaves like it wasn't even trifling, and he never missed a queue or cracked a note. The part was written for his voice, and Pianji struggled, to say the least, at measuring up to him. It hardly mattered. This was rumored to be the tenor's last show with the Opera Populaire. It was said he and Carlotta had made plans to leave Paris altogether, although nobody seemed to be able to pinpoint where they would go.

Christine shifted uncomfortably in her bed located in the ballet school dormitories. Maybe she really was becoming a diva. She'd slept here almost every night since she came to train with the ballet as a small child. It had always been good enough for her when she was in the chorus. Lately all she could think about when she lied down on her bed was how much softer the one Erik slept in was. With a groan she tried to reposition herself yet again to get comfortable. Yet again it proved impossible. Finally she gave up what had proved to be futile a long time before. She grabbed the robe she kept by her bedside for emergencies and tip toed out, carefully avoiding the bodies of the other sleeping maidens, as she had done on so many other occasions.

She tripped sleepily down the cobweb-strewn corridor that led to heart of the opera house. Her feet seemed to know the way by now so thankfully it didn't require too much input from her head. She was grateful she'd learned to avoid the murky waters of the lake when the drowned body of a rat floated past her. She shivered. Death had never sat well with her, even if it was something or someone she despised. Raoul's injury had proved that, among other things. When at last the candle lit haven came into view she sucked in a breath of surprise. Erik was slumped over his organ in exhaustion. The uncovered side of his face almost mirrored the deathly pallor of its artificial twin. His brow was covered in sweat and his normally steady hands shook every time he took a breath. Softly, almost inaudibly he murmured a name in his slumber, "Christine," he called softly. "Christine, come back! Don't leave me here alone!" It sounded more urgent now, nearly frantic. It tore at her heart to see him this way. She knew he would never allow himself to look so vulnerable when he was conscious. Even his dreams were riddled with insecurities. Was there nothing she could do or say to put his fears to rest?

Gently she laid her hand on his shoulder.

"Erik," she whispered softy, "Erik!"

He stirred, but seemed unable, to wake from his slumber. He writhed unconsciously away from her touch. In an attempt to soothe him she laid her hand on his face, but withdrew it hastily once she felt how hot it was. He was burning with fever. Christine wrung her hands anxiously. What could she do? She knew only the bare minimum about how to treat an illness. It wasn't one of the things that were likely to be addressed when one was training as a dancer. She felt so helpless.

For lack of a better alternative, she resolved to at least Erik to bed. Maybe then he would sleep more restfully. She took him under the arms, but staggered under his weight. She couldn't move him on her own. Quickly, she retrieved a blanket from one of the hall closets, and wrapped it around his shoulders. She kissed him briefly on the forehead, and ran to get the one person she knew could and would help her: Madame Giry. Her earlier stealth was not mirrored as she thudded back through the underground corridors that lead to her dressing room from the house on the lake. Indeed, by the time she reached the chambers of the ballet mistress she was quite disheveled.

The older woman awoke with a start at the entrance of the young ingénue. Immediately she asked, "Is it Erik?" Christine nodded mutely, and took her hand, leading back the way she had come, finding suddenly that her voice was failing her, and all her effort was needed to restrain her tears. What if he was very ill? What if he died? No, she mustn't think such thoughts. He couldn't die. She wouldn't let him. She'd lost the most important man in her life once, and she would be damned if she ever let it happen again. "Hold on, Erik," she whispered to herself, "Hold on."


End file.
